Lessons for a Bright Witch
by perfectsmuttyvampire
Summary: The prequel to my fic The Wolf, The Witch and the Animagus. Bill and Charlie help Hermione understand the world of the Submissive and introduce her to new levels of feeling.
1. Chapter 1

_**TITLE: Lessons for a Bright Witch**_

_**SUMMARY: The BDSM training Hermione receives from Charlie and Bill Weasley. Prequel to The Wolf, the Witch and the Animagus, contains BDSM scenes.**_

_**PAIRING: Hermione/Charlie/Bill - no incest!**_

_**WARNING: BDSM scenes, some mild swearing. Not to all tastes, but please R&R if it happens to be to yours! Hermione is 16, the age of sexual consent in Britain. Charlie is 20, mostly as I'm unsure of his exact age.**_

_**RATING: M. Very, very M.**_

_**A/N: I appear to be caving under remarkably little pressure and writing a prequel. It was requested after my fic The Wolf, The Witch and the Animagus was published, and so I thought "Hey, why not, it's the summer break and all." So even though I should be working on my thesis right now, here I am writing this for your amusements.**_

_**Story follows basic lines - one POV per chapter as with The Wolf, The Witch and the Animagus. However, unlike The Wolf, The Witch and the Animagus, we hear from them all twice. Enjoy!**_

HPOV

I stare at the parchment and quill in front of me. I know what I want to say, but so far I've only written "Dear Charlie" at the top of the page. I have to chose my words deliberately and carefully. But for a mysterious reason, I can't find any words to say: which for me, is pretty shocking. Actually, maybe not so shocking, given the nature of my enquiry. Because you can't exactly say "Please tie me up and beat me, it gets me off." to one of your best friend's _brothers. _Even when you know that that brother is in on the lifestyle and would be able to help train you. I pick up the quill, and I dip it in the ink. I take a couple of deep breaths, and I look around to make sure Madame Pince isn't reading over my shoulder to make sure I'm doing homework. I hope she isn't, as there's no way in hell I'd ever be able to pass this letter off as homework.

_Dear Charlie_

_It's Hermione. Hermione Granger, that is. You might be surprised to see that I'm writing to you, when I don't think I ever have before - except that time to get you to come and collect Norbert, that dragon Hagrid managed to hatch in my first year. I think my reasons, however, will be clear by the end of this letter._

_I'm writing to make an enquiry of you. I suppose the best way to introduce this enquiry is to tell you that I made a certain discovery in your room when I was cleaning in there over the holidays. I honestly wasn't prying, I just opened a drawer to put some of your things that you'd left in the living room away, and they were kind of right there. The magazines. I didn't look at them, but I knew what they were - I guess it was obvious, really, going on the picture on the cover. I know you're a Dominant on the BDSM scene, and I think I should tell I know I'm a Submissive. I don't want to go into details in a letter. I think I can get this to you without Umbridge reading it - I'm sure you know what a foul toad that woman is. But if she does intercept it, I'd rather not hand her any more information than I already have. I have Warded it - you should be the only one able to read it, but she might be able to break the Charms. But about my enquiry. I'm sure you've already guessed - but I'm asking you to train me. I haven't been trained at all, and this is a lifestyle I'm genuinely interested in. _

_I'm asking you because I know, trust and admire you. I won't cause a fuss or anything if you turn me down. I know you might have concerns about my age or my being Ron's friend. I'd like to at least discuss it with you. Please let me know if you can help me._

_Hermione._

_P.S: Please send reply to the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade. Aberforth and I have an arrangement about post now that Umbridge intercepts our letters. I check with him and go when I must._

As an afterthought, I add a kiss at the end, and then seal the letter. I tuck the letter into my robes, pack up my books and retreat to a dark corner of the library, where I Disillusion myself and creep out behind a group of first years. I go down to the grounds, walking quickly, making sure I stay silent. Thank God I managed to get Mad-Eye to teach me some cloaking spells before we left for Kings Cross. The darkness manages to hide me even further and I'm reasonably confident I'm all but invisible. I make it to the gate in about an hour. I peer through the bars, and whistle softly. A barn owl hoots in reply, and swoops down, landing on the other side of the gates. I Charm the letter onto his leg, and tell him where to go. He hoots again, and swoops back into the trees. I stand, and turn for the castle. I'm going to have to run, else I'll be late. It took longer than planned to get down here, and I can't be caught out after curfew. Tucking my cloak about me, consulting the Marauders' Map and checking my charm is still in place, I set off back to the castle. I'd've borrowed Harry's Invisibility Cloak, but I couldn't get him alone, and if I'd asked with Ron in earshot there would have been a Spanish Inquisition from him about what I'm up to. I would have lied, but I hate doing it, they always know. Not that they'd mind. They both thoroughly approve of sneaking around these days, with Umbridge nearly constantly on the prowl. But then it'd get back to Fred and George and I'd have to endure relentless teasing about how the great Hermione Granger was breaking rules. I'm sure they'd be very proud of me.

I get back with seconds to spare. I have to sprint for Gryffindor Tower and am coughing like crazy when I give the password. My God, I'm out of shape. Harry and Ron stare at me.

"Christ, Hermione, you OK? Have you been running?" Harry demands, jumping up to slide my bag off my shoulder for me. I wave helplessly at him.

"I'm (gasp, wheeze, cough, splutter) fine, just had to run (gasp, gasp, cough) from the library."

"Lost track of time again, huh?" he says, grinning, sitting me on the sofa and shoving my head between my knees so he can rub my back a bit. "Better?"

"Yeah." I try and sit back up, but he holds me, makes me ease up slowly. "God, I need to get fit."

"Well, I'm going to bed," Ron says, getting up and pointing at me severely. "Now we know you didn't get caught for doing something you shouldn't by Umbridge and the crew." I pull a face at him and he shambles off up the boys stairs. I pull the map out and hand it back to Harry.

"There a point me asking what you wanted it for?"

"Nope."

"OK. Night, Hermione." I stay for a little longer, watching the flames settle down into glowing coals while the common room empties around me and my heartbeat returns to normal. Its almost midnight before I find the energy or the will to rise, and I take the stairs slowly. The girls are already asleep, the giggling long since over. As I set my alarm for six, I'm getting the feeling I'll regret my late night in the morning.

I manage to drag myself around the next day, thankful that it's Friday and I can fob the boys off with the excuse that I stayed up late studying. Umbridge is striding about the castle looking angry about something, which puts us all on guard. All that means is that she knows something is going on in this castle, but can't find out what. Checking the coast is clear, I drag the boys into a secret alcove and check repeatedly to affirm that we're alone. When I'm finally satisfied, I turn to Harry and Ron.

"So, she either knows or suspects about the DA or she knows something else. Either way someone's getting careless. They're not checking well enough before they come into the Room."

"How can they? All that bloody Inquisitorial Squad would need to do is Disillusion themselves." I nod at Ron, knowing he's right.

"We need to be more careful. Either we call off tomorrow's meeting, or we start slamming up enough security to keep even Dumbledore at bay."

"How?"

"Harry, you'll have to hide outside. Keep checking the Marauder's Map. Don't let people go in unless the coast is clear."

"Hermione, we'd be out there for hours. The meeting would never get started. If we're that worried, then someone needs to distract the Inquisitorial Squad."

"I'll do it," I say. "Look, you're only covering what people want to practise now it's getting to close to exams. I'll distract them."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Be careful, Hermione. Don't let them catch you. Don't do anything that'd get you more than a detention -" and Harry grimaces, as we all know what that'd entail "if you're caught doing it."

"Understood. I'll be careful, Harry." We check the Map before we leave our alcove, and miraculously, we get away with it.

Very early the next morning, a coin vibrates under my pillow. I know who it is immediately. Sure enough, engraved on the side is Aberforth's staple message. "Letters. When?" I tap it with my wand. "At once." I slide out of bed, dress quietly, and then head for the boys tower. I sneak into Harry and Ron's room, and climb onto Harry's bed. I put a hand over his mouth and he jolts, blinking. I see his hand edging, and put a knee on it.

"It's me," I whisper. He relaxes and nods. I lie down, and he pulls the curtains around us.

"What?" he grumbles after he's set up a silencing charm.

"Letters. I need the Cloak and the Map. I'm going now."

"What time is it?"

"Four. Aberforth will give me breakfast."

"Be careful," he says, warningly, withdrawing both items from under his pillow. He hasn't bothered putting his glasses on.

"Always am. Meet me in here after breakfast."

"OK. I'm going back to sleep, get out."

"OK," I say, smiling. I slip off his bed, out of the curtains, and then tiptoe out and down the stairs. I put the Cloak on before I leave the Common Room, and unfold the Map beneath it. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," I whisper, tapping it. There's nobody outside, and nobody in any of the corridors leading to the one-eyed witch passageway. Even so, I check at regular intervals. I encounter nobody and it's remarkably easy to get into the passages.

I'm famished by the time I get to the Hogs Head. Only one human is revealed by my spells, and that human is using no charms or potions to protect a secret identity. I knock on the door to the back rooms. Aberforth's voice enquires about my identity.

"You have letters for me, Aberforth." The door opens at once, and he glowers down at me.

"And I suppose you'll be wanting food?"

"That'd be lovely, thank you." I've got used to his gruffness by now. If he wasn't feeding me, he wouldn't bring up food at all. Sure enough, he gestures to a plate of food and a glass of pumpkin juice sitting on a rough table.

"What's it like up there?"

"She's got a smell up her nose about something. It's getting harder."

"You're going to have to call it off eventually."

"Exams are soon enough. It'll all stop then any way."

"If Umbridge has a smell up her nose, as you put it, you don't have that much time."

"Do you know something?"

"I have feeling. Be careful, Miss Granger. It won't be very long now. You are going to be found out."

"Then we'll deal with it. We knew the risks, Aberforth. We aren't the children you suppose us to be."

"No, Miss Granger. I never thought of you as children. Here. Quite a bundle today. I'll walk you to the Shack."

"No, I'll be fine. But thank you for offering nonetheless."

I get back easily enough, but have a narrow scrape with Malfoy. I have no choice but to pass him as I go back into the castle, and it's a close shave indeed. I'm fairly sure he senses that I'm there, but his grab for me misses. I take myself into the boys dormitory, find it empty and perch myself on Harry's bed, waiting.

I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know, there are five people goggling at me.

"Er, Hermione?" Dean asks, grinning. "What exactly are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Seamus asks, also grinning. "She's waiting for Harry."

"How'd you guess?" I ask, yawning.

"Because you were asleep," Ron says, smirking, "in his bed. And you weren't there this morning."

"Hey, you caught me. Couldn't stay away another moment."

"I know," Harry says, throwing himself down next to me. "I'm just irresistible."

"God, I know, Golden Boy," Seamus says, throwing a pillow at him. "I'm actively restraining myself from jumping you." With many ribald comments and sexual innuendos, the boys leave me, Ron and Harry alone.

"Letters," I say, pointing my wand at the curtains, closing and warding them. I draw the packet from inside my robes, and dealing them out. "This one's for Ginny, I'll give it to her later. Two for you, Ron, one for you, Harry, and three for me. Aren't I the popular one." I've already taken out Charlie's. I don't want questions.

Only later, when I'm alone in my dormitory, curled up on my bed, do I open his letter.

_Hermione_

_It has to be said, it's nice to have you writing to me about something other than Hagrid's illegal dragon hatchery. Your handwriting's gotten better since then._

_I don't believe you were prying. It's true, I didn't exactly hide them. You discovered the magazines by accident, and I'm not angry. One should hide the secrets they don't want to be discovered in more discreet and hard to reach places. Speaking of hiding secrets - quite impressive charm work on the letter and good work on establishing secret links for letters and mail. No doubt the twins would be proud. This is a discussion we need to have face to face, however. I'm not saying no - your request intrigues me greatly and I merely want to talk about the things we cannot safely discuss in letters. Meet me at the Hog's Head next Saturday at two - I assume that you can get out, by fair means or foul. Do me a favour, don't wear your uniform - Umbridge might have spies around, I assume this is something you'd rather she didn't discover. I expect you'd rather keep your ways and means of getting out of the castle to yourself. Only answer if this won't work for you - no point going to lots of hassle for the word "OK." _

_Charlie_

My God, he's a bit brisk. Still, at least he hasn't just said an outright no. I was half afraid he would. Now - what the hell do I wear?

I spent my week worrying about not just that but a whole host of little things. I want to cut my hair, increase my bra size, eradicate the thin white scar from above my eyebrow - a legacy from falling climbing Snowdon with my parents - get a new wardrobe, learn to walk in heels. I haven't the time or the skill to do any of those things, although I finally give in to Lavender's pleas and I do let her trim my hair. I have to admit, she's actually very good at it, and obeys strict orders to only trim the split ends and do a general tidy. It looks a lot better, and it does make me look less of a frizzy-haired schoolgirl. I dither extensively after lunch on Saturday. I've whittled my choices down - not that there were particularly many of them - to two. Either I go smart, or I wear a green fitted sweater and jeans. Eventually giving up, I decide to go with sweater and jeans. I put my hair up, coaxing it into a tousled effect, like I just threw it into this style when I got up in the morning. I spend five intense minutes on make-up, put Harry's Cloak and the Map into my shoulder bag and run down to the Common Room where I find both him and Ron engaged in a violent bout of Wizard's Chess. I'm greeted by a wolf-whistle from Fred and George, and I try glaring at them, although I'm fairly sure the smile tugging at my lips and the blush on my face pretty much negates any quelling effects it might have had.

"And where are you going?" Ron demands, looking me over. "Got a boyfriend among the library people?"

"I'll be back by dinner," I say, standing on my dignity. "As for you, Ronald, don't be childish. It's none of your business where I'm going."

"Well, sorry I offended you."

"See you later, Hermione," Harry says, grinning. "Bishop to E7."

"Goddamn, you got my Queen!"

"Pay attention then." While Ron broods over his next moves, Harry gets up to give me a hug. "You look positively delicious."

"Hush," I say, looking around to make sure nobody heard that one. "I want to speak to you later."

"I'll spirit you away somewhere after dinner."

"Alright. I look OK?"

"Oh yes, you look 'OK' alright." He smirks as he lets me go, and I leave the Common Room slightly flustered. I know well enough what it'll end up with when he "spirits me away" as he promises. There are no objections from me.

I get out of the castle with no hassle, and I see from the Map that not one member of the Inquisitorial Squad was anywhere near either me or the passage at any point. While Hogsmeade is a little busy, I keep the Cloak on until I'm at the Hog's Head and I've ascertained that none of the people in the bar is using any Concealment Charms. How ridiculously over-cautious all this is! Goddamn Umbridge. I can't see the tell-tale Weasley red anywhere, but Aberforth is behind the bar. I stand directly in front of him, and tap my coin with my wand. He turns with great nonchalance. "I'm here." My coin vibrates not a moment later, and his message reads "Upstairs." At that exact moment, some kind of bar brawl breaks out, to the delight of the patrons, and while they're distracted, I slip off the Cloak, revealing my own beneath it. I keep the hood up, and make for the stairs. The door at the end of the corridor upstairs stands open and I head for it. I take a deep breath, take my courage in my hands and enter.


	2. Chapter 2

CPOV

Light footsteps along the corridor alert me to an approach. Much too light for Aberforth, and I'm assuming also for any patrons of the Hog's Head. It must be her. A slight figure in a black cloak steps around the doorframe, the deep hood shadowing the face. As little hands throw it back, I'm confronted by the stunning fact that little Hermione Granger is now no longer little Hermione Granger. This Hermione is classically beautiful, milk-and-roses for colouring, a dusting of golden freckles like cinnamon powder across a straight little nose, and none of the frizzy schoolgirl that I used to know. I knew she would've changed, of course, but I never quite expected her to look quite so grown up. She must be sixteen - I'm sure I remember Ron saying she was the oldest of them all by some way, and Ron's had his birthday. I sent him a card for it. Then I'm recalled to my sense by Aberforth at the door, a big tray in his hands, containing a couple of sharing bottles of Butterbeer and one of Firewhiskey, glasses, and some food.

"I thought Hermione here might be hungry after her walk from the castle. So there's half a cold pheasant there and some bread, a pat of butter, and a chunk of cheese. Not much, but enough to fill the corners and keep the wolves at bay until your dinner."

"Thanks, Aberforth," she says, offering him a pretty smile. A pretty smile which seems to me to be positively indecent when she casts it on me when he leaves the room and shuts the door. "Shall I pour?" she offers.

"Please." She pours two glasses of Butterbeer and sets the bottle down with a clink.

"How have you been?" she asks me. "Any new burns?"

"Yes, here." I show her the most recent, a great purple one across my upper arm. "Courtesy," I say, grinning at her, "of Norbert. Or Norberta, as we must call her."

"So that dragon was a she all along," she muses, staring at the burn. "Did they Heal it up OK?"

"All well," I say grinning at her, and she smiles back.

"You'll have to learn to run faster," she says, smirking. It effectively breaks the last of the ice, and we share a laugh. "Shall I play mother and deal out some of this spread?"

"How's about I carve up the bird and you butter the bread and cut the cheese?" She acquiesces to this idea at once and lays the cheese on the bread slices as kind of open sandwiches. When we're both settled, I observe her for some time. At first she seems unconscious of it, but gradually her cheeks begin to pink up and I can tell that she's beginning to feel self-conscious. She's only picking at her food now. However, I keep looking, and I enjoy what I see most thoroughly. From being the fairly skinny little kid she was, entirely drowned in all that frizzy hair, she's become a real young woman. Soft curves grace her frame now, and there's something delicious about the regular sweater and jeans she has on, and something tantalising about how her breasts look so pert under the green wool. The colour suits her too, bringing out the cream of her skin and the colour of her lips. I notice that she wears little make-up, no layers and layers of powders and the other crap girls so frequently like to cover themselves in. certainly she has on that stuff that is put on eyelashes, but just a light coat, just enough to emphasize the length of those lashes. She looks almost delicate in her slenderness and yet there's strong character in the pretty face, and a determined lift to her chin which tells me she's a tough streak in her, if not downright stubbornness. I also get the feeling that she's doing some observing of her own from under those lowered lashes, and that she would have absorbed a great deal already.

Eventually, I decide to put her out of her unease - I've been scrutinising her for a good while, and as good as she's been about it, she must be fearfully uncomfortable by now. She's long since finished her meal, and is now playing uncomfortably with her glass of Butterbeer.

"So, Hermione," I say, conversationally, and she looks up, a quickly veiled leap of hope in her eyes. "Your request."

"Yes, my request," she says, quickly. "What do you need to ask?"

"Tell me what experience you've had on this scene." She colours a little, but there is nothing of the shrinking violet in her voice when she speaks.

"Not very much. First off, Harry and I have slept together. Several times. At first it was the usual sort of sex, you know." I raise my eyebrows. She accepts my challenge magnificently. "We were neither of us virgins, so it was a response to desire at first I suppose. We both needed physical release, so it all boiled to a head one day after we were tidying after a DA meeting. One minute we were putting away cushions, the next moment we'd looked at each other and then we were taking each other's clothes off and he was using his mouth to remarkable effect. I think Harry's a natural Dominant - even then, before we got a little experimental, he wanted to dictate the pace and I was perfectly happy to damn well let him."

"You speak of being experimental."

"Quite so. It came about quite unexpectedly. He had this detention with Umbridge, the foul toad. He came to me after, asked if we could speak. We went up to his dormy and he got me onto his bed, closed and warded his curtains, turned to me and told me he needed me badly and said I should take my clothes off, and I did. I had no idea what it was, but his being all commanding like that was turning me on like mad. The next thing I knew, he'd tied my hands to his bedposts with our ties and he was - well, I think the word _feasting_ fits well. He issued orders, Charlie -" and I notice with interest her cheeks are flushed again, and I recognise the lust in her eyes with serious interest. It's stirring in me too. I can imagine her tied like that, spread out deliciously. "He told me to suck his cock and made me beg him to fuck me. And my sweet God, but I was deliriously pleased to obey him on the word. It was stunningly arousing, and it was the single most intense, erotic experience I've ever had. And the most mind-blowingly powerful orgasm. He was fearfully contrite about it the next day - after we'd both slept the clock round - but I told him we had to repeat the whole experience and that I'd rather like to explore the whole dynamic more. He was very pleased to do so. And I went off and researched a little and found out all about it. With regards to how experimental we've been together, really not very. He's spanked me a few times, and tied my hands a lot more, but never more than that."

"I see. So you've had no formal training?"

"None at all. I've picked up a few things through reading about it all, but I've no idea how much of it is accurate."

"Not knowing what you've read, I couldn't say."

"Mostly things like titles and descriptions of playrooms." She looks at me. "Should I be calling you Sir? I read that one doesn't call a Dom Master unless a contract has been signed and/or collaring has happened. Is that right?" I might have to see what she's been reading.

"It is, but you needn't call me Sir - at least, not yet. If I should agree to take you for training, then you would."

"Alright."

"So, Miss Hermione, did you like it when Harry spanked you?"

"I did," she says, softly. "Very much so." She bites her lip.

"Do you recall how that felt?" I ask her. Her eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments. I sense I'm having an effect on her, and decide to ramp it up a few notches. I get up and go to stand behind her. I put my hands on her shoulders. "Describe it to me." I feel her tense under my hands.

"But -"

"Oh no, Hermione, no buts. I have to be absolutely sure that this is something you are really serious about and not just an experiment you're enjoying with young Harry."

"It was so deliciously painful. The sting of it first, then a burn of pleasure that spread from the point of contact. Wet," she whispers. "The burning would make me so very wet. And it'd throb - _there. _Sometimes I'd leave a patch on Harry's jeans and he'd say - he'd say that I was his little slut and that always made me moan and even wetter and it'd make me more aroused than ever." I keep my grip on her shoulders, and I can feel her quivering.

"And you want me to make you feel like that, you want me to train you to submit yourself entirely to so, so much more?" She nods, and I run my hands from her shoulders to circle her neck. I tighten my grip enough to make her gasp, and bend down so my lips are beside her ear. "Say it out loud."

"Yes."

"I don't work alone, Hermione. There would be someone else involved in your training." She gasps. "Does that excite you?" She nods again and also murmurs her response.

"Yes." I laugh quietly, and her eyes close. I hear her shaky inhalation, I stroke her neck gently. Her head falls back, baring her throat to me. I slide my hand around it, curl my fingers in to grip her gently. Her eyes are closed, her breathing is quick and shallow. Colour sweeps both cheeks. I want her. I want to have her here and now. There's something so delicious about her, something hypnotic and tempting. Something about her pulls me in.

"I work with Bill. He and I train Submissives together, give you two different styles, and give you far more pleasure than you could possibly imagine."

"Oh God." Her exclamation is all but silent, but I still catch it.

"I take it you'd have no objections?"

"No."

"Remember discussing titles with me?"

"Yes," she says, softly.

"Now you should call me Sir." She swallows, and her eyes flutter open and she looks at me with eyes that have gone very dark.

"Yes Sir." I move very quickly, pulling her from the chair at the same moment I walk from the back of it, and back her into the wall opposite. Her eyes are round and dark, and her cheeks flushed, and her breathing has quickened. I cage her in with my arms and deliberately close all space without getting close enough to touch her.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Hermione."

"I'm thinking I would like you to kiss me, Sir." I stare at her, and she drops her chin after a few moments. I hook a finger beneath it firmly and make her face me. I lean in, kiss her softly on the lips. I linger, but make no attempt to deepen it. She lets it happen, makes no attempt on her own behalf and when I move back, I nod approvingly. This time, when I lean in for a kiss, I deepen it, ask for entry, which she gives me willingly. Her mouth opens and her hands slide to my waist. I take the mass of half-up, half-down curls in my hand and grip firmly, using the other to take her neck again. Her response to my grip is to lean in, to seek for contact and I respond to that before I really think about it. I slam her against the stone work and yank her off her feet. She moans at it, and hooks her legs around my waist. Her hands are sliding through my hair, and she's deliberately pressing closer to me. I can feel the roundness of her breasts against my chest and I curve a hand around one of her thighs, yanking her closer to me. She gasps and her legs tighten.

When I manage to fully comprehend our situation, I rip my lips from hers and rest my forehead on hers. I make no effort to put her back onto the floor. She makes no attempt to get down. Her lips are swollen and her breathing is ragged.

"I'm going to put you down and you're going to pick up your cloak and you're going to go back to the castle. How you get your kicks once there is entirely up to you." She bites her lips. "If you stay, I'll have you, and right now I don't think that's appropriate. Not here, not now, not like this."

"But soon, Sir?" I smile at her words, and her eyes spark.

"Soon enough, don't you worry yourself about that. Bill and I'll write to you here, and I expect a timely reply."

"Yes, Sir." I lower her gently, and set her on her feet. She doesn't stagger or lose her footing, and crosses swiftly to her cloak. She swings it round her shoulders and fastens it, and now I see her shaking fingers. Not as composed as she's acting. Her quick, tempting smile is her last offering before she slips from the room and I hear her footsteps fading out.

I leave for Egypt and Bill that day. I demand to see him, and he comes out from the pyramid where he's apparently been wrestling with a particularly nasty curse. I raise my eyebrows.

"You do know you've got feelers?"

"I've had them for days. They're shrinking though, thanks to the medic. They'll be gone by Wednesday."

"Oh good, because I have a proposition for you, and it'd be helpful if you did not have the feelers."

"A proposition of what sort."

"Can you leave all this?"

"I can." He leads me away to the camp they've set up and leans down. He throws me a beer from the ice box at his feet and sits down on his desk. I take his chair and put my feet up. "So, what can I do for you?"

"Hermione Granger. That's what you can do for me. Agree to take her training with me."

"So, she finally got her head round it." In answer to my raised eyebrows, he grins. "Noticed when I met her over the summer. I was wondering if she'd notice and/or accept it. How'd she know to come to you - for I assume she did?"

"She did. She found my magazines in my room. And we can all be grateful it was her and not Mum. But regardless, will you?"

"Yes."

"Good. Had a feeling you would but obviously needed to check. You have time to draft a letter of instruction to her now?"

"Not right now. I have an appointment with the medic and I really do have to get back. Can you stay?"

"I think I should. You know what they say about Apparating that sort of distance in a day. Can you put me up overnight?"

"Yeah, I should think so. You don't mind the couch, do you?"

"I do not."

The next day, Bill helps me draft a letter to Hermione.

_Hermione_

_A joint effort on behalf of us both. We have discussed you, at length, and we've decided to take you. To really get down to it, we do naturally expect you to commit to certain amount of time. At first, just evenings for two weeks, three nights out of seven. Then we'd need days and then we would work up to overnights and whole days. We'd discuss that. We also assume that you'll be going home to your parents for at least some of the holidays but that you will spend some time at the Burrow also. Please let us know which evenings and days work best for you. As you said to me, you've read up about this, so we're assuming there's some knowledge of what you like. We need you to be entirely honest about exactly what your experience is. Let us know these things by post. _

_Also, on Saturday at three, you're to meet us at the Hog's Head._

_Bill and Charlie._

Her answer is stunningly prompt, literally by return owl, although she does give him a days rest.

_Dear Sirs,_

_I hope that this is the right way to begin such a letter. I started twice, I was so unsure, but thought this was the best way. First, I must say thank you - although I would have sought another had you declined, I am very happy that it's you. I feel I can trust you both entirely. _

_Weeknights are best for me, although Sunday evenings are also good. My parents like us to eat out for dinner on Saturday's - as they see so little of me now my life is something they don't know or understand, it's our time to reassure each other that I'm still their Hermione. I don't think I would be able to offer you Saturdays when it came to spending days either. I'll be at the Burrow from mid-August, no exact date yet. _

_As to my experience - I've told Charlie a deal of it already. Harry and I have experimented with restraining my hands and spanking, blindfolding and gagging, but have gone no further. I figure by experience you also mean how many partners I've had and the answer is two. My first time was with Victor Krum in fourth year. The second was obviously Harry. I have engaged in oral sex before - and just to tease, if it isn't stepping over the lines, I love it. Not just taking but also the giving. _

_Hermione_

_P.S: Nearly forgot altogether, Saturday is fine. Also, gorgeous owl. I would have written yesterday, but figured you'd want the owl back and therefore gave him a little rest. H._

The next Saturday, we're waiting in the Hog's Head. She does not come, but at half-past three, Aberforth comes in looking his grimmest.

"Message from Hermione. Umbridge found out."

"Found out what?" I snap.

"Ah, so you never knew. Harry Potter and his little collection started a practical Defence class. Umbridge found them out yesterday, and in consequence, Dumbledore has quit the school. Umbridge is now entirely in control and Mr's Potter and Weasley and Miss Granger have been identified as the ring leaders. She sent this note, I'm sure it explains."

"Thank you."

_Sirs,_

_I am so, so sorry. Aberforth will have explained that Umbridge caught us. Not only am I unable to leave the castle, it looks wildly unlikely that I'll ever be released from detention. I can only pray that you'll forgive me. She's watching the Floo network and intercepting every owl that leaves or enters the grounds. Please forgive me - I tried. _

_Hermione._


	3. Chapter 3

BPOV

Six weeks later she's splashed all over the front pages of the _Prophet, _alongside Harry Potter and my baby brother, having walked away - barely - from Death Eater's in the Ministry. She recovered in the Hogwarts' hospital wing and finally, eight weeks after we originally planned to meet her, appears in the Hog's Head, helped by Aberforth. She smiles at us both and drops into a chair. She looks far better than she did when we all saw her in the Hospital Wing. She had been white as a sheet, unable to move without a great deal of pain, and drugged to the hilt to control that pain. The curse came very close to killing her and we all knew it. It was then that I knew how much Harry and Ron loved her. The genuine fear on their faces in the hours when she was brought in to St Mungo's and they genuinely didn't know if they'd be able to save her clearly terrified them both.

"I'm alright now, I promise." Her voice is very soft and calm, and her smile very steady and her eyes very kind. We're staring. Charlie crosses to her and frames her face in his hands. "Honestly. I can even run now." I laugh a little at that. He keeps up his scrutiny for a few moments.

"Yes, I do believe you are." But I'm not satisfied with that. I pick up her hand and examine the back of it. Thin red lines spell _I must obey the rules. _

"That's fading too."

"You know, little birds told me that it was your plan," I say, challengingly.

"Little birds being your brothers, no doubt!" She smiles at me. "It was. And I told Umbridge that with pride. Marietta Edgecombe's face was my idea too."

"Just out of interest, when will that fade?"

"In a year." Charlie laughs.

"Good going. Our mother, by the way, is not happy that you - supposedly the good, sensible one! - was responsible for getting the whole bunch of you into such trouble."

"Molly will forgive me when she knows I'm all better." Finally reassuring myself that there really is no lasting damage to her and that she's now healthy and fighting fit again, I hand her an envelope.

"This is for you. It's a basic first time submissive information pack. And yeah, sounds formal, but it's the best description I can come up with," I say, smiling at her. She smiles back, and accepts the envelope.

"Shall I read it now, Sir?"

"Please." She obligingly withdraws the sheets of parchment and flicks through quickly before settling down to read. "There's a form of checklist there, essentially what we want to know is what you have done, what you would like to try and experience and what you will absolutely not try. When you've filled it out, we'll discuss it with you, at length - but we'll meet you tomorrow for that. It's homework, if you like. Take your time over it." She extracted the checklists, and is scanning through, occasionally nodding or shaking her head.

"Hermione, are you listening?" Charlie asks, sounding vaguely amused.

"Yes, Sir."

"Multi-tasking, I like it. Also, you've got a training contract in there." She takes out the biggest bundle, which I fastened with one of Dad's many paperclips. He loves paperclips. "That has to be signed, but again, we'll finalise that tomorrow after we've discussed your checklist. A training contract differs slightly from a full Submissive contract, as it's not meant for any particular length of time. How long training lasts depends on you and how well you do. The checklist varies too - once you've been trained, you might find that your limits alter greatly, so the permanent checklist you provide to any future Dominants will not be the checklist you give to us." She's scanning through the contract, her eyes moving rapidly. She's sexy like this, a little frown between her eyebrows as she reads and concentrates. There's a beeping suddenly, which worries me a little, but she presses a button on something on her wrist, and reaches for a bag suddenly, and rummages.

"What are you after?" Charlie asks, amused. "And what was that noise?"

"The noise was the alarm on my watch, Sir, reminding me to take my Potion from Madame Pomfrey."

"What's it for?"

"Help the scar fade, and the skin around it heal."

"Heal?" I say, anger creeping in. She looks up, startled, holding a vial in her hand.

"Yes - it's just - er." She tails off, and drops her eyes.

"Show me," Charlie says, flatly. "Take your shirt off, get up, and show us." She does so immediately, standing up and removing her shirt. There's a dressing patch over her ribs on the left side, and I go over to her and take it off. What I see makes me pissed off in the extreme, not just at the bastard who gave it to her, and her for just failing to mention it. It's lividly purple, and the edges looked ragged and sore.

"Did you plan to tell us about this, girl?"

"No, Sir."

"Why not?"

"Because it will be healed entirely by the time the summer holidays begin in two weeks."

"So, you didn't think we needed to know this?"

"No, Sir."

"Hermione," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Sir - I -"

"Hermione, say whatever you have to say. You may speak freely."

"I didn't think it was going to matter, seeing as I will be OK when we start."

"Hermione, rule number one: anything that is going to affect your health in any way at any point in time, whether that be a half-healed curse scar or a minor cold, we need to know about your health. You matter. And you can't do something like this, with this level of physicality, if your health is compromised. So in the future, you don't decide what we need to know, we know about it, OK."

"Yes, Sir," she says, lifting those big brown eyes to mine. "I'm sorry," she says quietly.

"Well, then that's it," I say. "Give me that Potion. I assume you rub it in?"

"Yes, Sir," she says, handing it over. "You don't need all of it, just a glob about the size of a galleon." I oblige, and rub it in gently, remembering how gentle Charlie needed it to be when he made me rub burn ointment onto his fresh burns so Mum didn't know how many there were. She blows out a soft sigh, and her head drops back. "Thank you, Sir," she says, quietly, when I'm finished, meeting my eyes with hers. They're almost glowing, warm and inviting, and I drop my head to hers, kiss her open mouth very softly. Charlie steps up to us, putting his arms around her shoulders, his fingertips brushing the very tops of the swells of her breasts. His kiss is on her collarbone, and she puts her hands up for hold his arms. I stop to her front, putting my arms around her waist, resting my forehead on hers. One of her hands leaves Charlie's, and she curls in around the back on my neck, holding me steady.

"Sir," she says, very softly, looking into my eyes, very calm and very, very tender. "I promise you I'm fine. I swear it."

"I know," I say, tightening my hold none the less. Charlie seems to sense something, because he steps back from her.

"I'm going to go and chase up some food from Aberforth." I barely register him leaving, but she does, of course.

"Did we upset him?" she asks, softly.

"No, now shut up. For now, would you let me hold you?" I ask, tentatively. I'm half-afraid she'll insist she doesn't need holding. But she doesn't, she just nods and slides her arms around my waist. I change my stance, holding her shoulders and cupping one hand on her head, holding her tightly. I'm very aware that she's all but topless, only a lick of silk shielding her from me. I run my hands down her back, feel her shiver at the contact, feel her tremble.

I crave her. I need her, need her right now. The fact that I need her while she's still in recovery makes me shake helplessly. If I crave her now, what will I feel when I know she's fighting fit again? I'm almost disgusted with myself for reaching for her, for slipping my fingertips beneath the waistband of her jeans, feeling the soft skin there, feeling her slight intake of breath at the contact against her sensitive skin. I feel her press forward, moulding herself to me.

"You're hurt," I murmur.

"I'm fine."

"We shouldn't -"

"You should," she mutters. "Sir - I can feel how much you want me. Why deny yourself?"

"Cheeky little minx," I growl, and she raises her head, biting her lip and smiling at me.

"Thank you," she murmurs, and that does it. I kiss her, and she parts her lips eagerly, welcoming me, inviting me in. I accept the invitation, kissing her roughly. She mewls delightedly, and her hands run to the hem of my t-shirt, sliding her hands beneath it to rest on the skin of my hips, caressing me gently. I tangle a hand in her hair, pull her head aside, and feast on the neck she offers so very eagerly, nipping gently on her pulse, enjoying the sweet noises she makes. I fumble with her bra, managing to open it, yanking the material down her arms, tossing it aside, impatiently filling my hands with the warmth of her breasts. She cries out softly when I pinch a nipple, palming the other, refusing to be gentle, needing to know her limits. I push her back into her chair, drop to my knees before her, take an eager bud in my mouth, use teeth and tongue to tease her until she's writhing beneath me, soft cries and mews spilling from her parted lips. Only then do I switch to the other side, treating it with the same attention. When Charlie returns, she tries to push me off, trying to cover herself.

"Don't move," I growl at her, and she stills at once. "He likes to watch, little girl. So we'll appease him, shall we? Would you like him to watch me have you?" Her intake of breath is shaky, and for a brief moment, I think it's too much for this first time. "You can stop this -"

"No," she says, and there is no shake to her voice. "I want him to watch." It's all I need to continue, and dive back to her breasts, taking them with hands and mouth. Her hands slide into my hair, and she grips firmly. "Stop," she begs, her voice no louder than a whisper. "Please, I - too much!" Charlie murmurs a Silencing Charm behind me and I release her nipple from my mouth, reaching up to kiss her. I order her out of the chair, and she stands at once, despite a definite shakiness around the knees. I take her place, order her to her knees. She obeys on the word, kneels and waits.

"Hermione, you're going to suck my cock, pet."

"Yes, Sir," she says, and immediately reaches for my jeans. Within seconds, she's released my cock from it's confines, and takes it gently in her hand, tightening her grip as she places a tender kiss on the head, darting out her tongue to taste briefly, before withdrawing to shoot me a smile. As I open my mouth to order her, she leans forward, and lets the head of my cock slip past her lips. She establishes a rhythm, bobbing eagerly, her tongue darting against the underside as her lips work the head. I feel her move forward slightly, and she opens more, takes me further, and takes my length in her mouth in it's entirety. I feel her throat object at first, but she perseveres. When her lips are sealed around the base of my cock, she hums happily, and the vibrations of that tight little throat sends a flash of heat through me. I tangle her hands into her hair and hold her there, hold her still until I'm sure I'm back in control. Only when I feel her throat protest at the continued intrusion do I release my grip a little, her response rewarding me ten-fold. She slides back until I'm all but out of that hot little mouth, looks up, meets my eyes and goes right back down again. Feeling the occasional scrape of her teeth is almost too much, but combine that with those big brown eyes boring into mine and it's enough to make me grunt gutturally. Charlie is staring at us, watching her every move, and knowing he's watching just adds to how filthy this really is, how sordid it is having good little Hermione Granger on her knees in the backroom of a seedy pub, sucking my cock like a professional whore, and clearly enjoying every second of it. Losing my control, I tighten the hold I have of her hair, and fuck her mouth, feeling her immediately relax and permit it. Before I come, feeling it building in the heat that's pooled at my belly, I pull out of her mouth, look at her.

"Tell me what you want to do, pet." Her answer nearly makes me shatter. Looking up at me with huge, immeasurably deep pools of cinnamon chocolate, she says words I never thought she'd ever utter.

"I want you to come in my mouth, Sir." So, because she asked so very nicely, and because it's clearly what she wants, I can only indulge her. So I slide my cock back into her mouth, and with a feather-light caress from her teeth and the placing of her tongue on the sensitive skin on the underside of the head, I come violently, roaring my pleasure to the warded room. I pull back, trying to steady my breathing, and she closes her mouth and swallows everything I gave her. Merlin.

"Did you like that, little slut," I croon, leaning forward and catching her chin between my thumb and forefinger.

"Yes, Sir," she murmurs, smiling at me.

"Tell Charlie what you liked."

"I liked sucking his cock," she says, turning to him, still on her knees. "I liked him fucking my mouth, and I liked tasting his come in my mouth."

"She's going to be stunning," Charlie comments, looking to me. "Just stunning." She smiles, looking contented - but at the same time, there's a flush on her cheeks, and something sparkling in her eyes. "But, brother - I think our little pet deserves a reward. I think she'd like to be put up against the wall and fucked."

"Well, pet? Would you like that?" She doesn't speak, but nods, staring at the very obvious bulge in Charlie's pants.

"I think it's your turn, Charlie. I think you should have her, this first time."

"Thank you, brother. Would you undress her for me? I want to see her revealed." I do so, peeling her jeans off slowly, taking off her socks, and finally, finally, I hook my fingers into the waistband of her knickers, sliding them down those long legs and helping her step out of them. She doesn't flinch from our gazes, standing with her hands by her sides, letting us see her.

"Sweet Merlin, you're fucking beautiful," Charlie hisses, advancing on her. She backs away, but her unflinching smile must assure him of his prize, because he keeps going. She backs herself into a wall and he goes to her. Their kiss is hot, passionate, and she surrenders herself entirely. His hand drops to her front, disappears from my view as he evidently finds her heat, and she moans aloud, her hands gripping his shoulders. "She's drenched already. Such an eager, wanton little slut." He's grappling with his jeans now, now lifting her off her feet and placing those legs around his waist. Her naked flesh against his clothing his a beautiful thing, a stunning contrast, and I can feel myself hardening again. I take my cock into my hand, and see the exactly moment that he plunges into her. Her head strikes back against the wall, her back arching forward, and a beautiful cry of pleasure spills out of her swollen, cherry red lips. He's nothing like as gentle as I was with her, he takes her fast, hard, hot, and I match my strokes to his thrusts. I can tell by the changing pitch of her moans that she's teetering on the edge. Finally, as he bends and uses the force to thrust upwards, she cries out sharply, his name spilling from her lips in a perfect cry. And I come, and it's so easy, to come watching her get fucked by him. She's so beautiful in the throes of her pleasure, so stunning as she breaks. He has come too, I can tell by his stillness as he holds her and she holds him. There is silence, but he eases her back to the floor eventually. She gives a little cry when he slips from her, but it's not of pin, more of protest. She redresses slowly, putting the dressing back over her scar - which already looks less sore and ragged, making me believe she was telling the truth about the healing business and not just saying things to reassure us.

We eat together, and she smiles and jokes and laughs. Her eyes are sparkling, and despite remaining with us for an hour, she still has a well-fucked look about her.

"Tomorrow," I say to her, kissing her goodbye. "Same time."

"Yes, Sir," she murmurs, holding up her face for Charlie's kiss, which he gives her enthusiastically. We watch her out of sight from the window, and only when she's vanished over the hill do I voice the question.

"So tell me, brother. What was she like?"

"The best," he replies.

"Yes," I agree, still looking out of the window after her. "There, I must agree with you."

**_A/N: This is the first half of Lessons for a Bright Witch. The second half, and The Ice Party sequel, is coming. Sorry it took so long, I've been so horribly, horribly busy. I hope this at least partially makes up for it. Can i haz reviews?!_**


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Chapter contains fluff.**_

HPOV

Back at the castle, in the relative privacy of the library, I find a dark corner where I can't be crept up on, and take the envelope from my bag. I spread the papers before me, and take up the checklist. It must be Bill's handwriting, as I'd know Charlie's script at once, and this is nearly incomprehensible in places. I screw up my face and squint at it, attempting to decipher it. I manage to work it out, and some of it makes me blush a little. However, at the first realisation that I'm doing it, I lay the parchment down on the desk, and give myself a little talking to.

"If you blush while you're just reading words on a parchment, what will it be like when you actually _do_ these things? Because they will be expecting you to do them, you know. Pull yourself together. Personally, I rather like number six." I smile at my inner monologue's sudden separate voice, and take up the paper again. There are six columns in total, the first listing the actual - lets say activity - and the other five with different headings: Done/Not Done; Want to Try; Prepared to Try; Unwilling to Try and Unsure. On the final page, there's a little explanation for the headings, this time in Charlie's neat print.

_Hermione: Just to explain Bill's headings. Want to try and prepared to try differ - want is what you like the sound of and prepared to try might not necessarily entirely appeal but is something you would be prepared to let us try with you. If you're unsure exactly what something is, tick unsure, even if you're only needing a little clarification. If you're absolutely against something, then at least be prepared to explain why. _

I go down the list, taking it column by column for now. I tick only the things I have done, figuring that that's probably the best thing to do, and I can always explain if they ask. There are precious few ticks, and it barely takes two minutes. I chew my lip, regarding the paper - what if they think I'm too inexperienced? Even though I did tell Charlie about it, maybe he thought I was editing a little? Maybe he was expecting more? Oh, well, if they do decide I am, I can go elsewhere. There's one or two of my classmates I recognise certain traits in, being fairly observant and fairly well read about this sort of thing. I go with gut instinct for the rest - and only two of them am I absolutely certain about not wanting to have anything to do with. I'm not going in for blood or bodily fluids. I don't like the sight of blood at the best of times and I find nothing at all appealing about bodily fluids. Far play - if it gets some people off, then that's just fine, but it isn't for me. I put the only ticks in the Unwilling column next to those two things. I expect that on a permanent checklist, they'd become my red limits - absolutely do not appeal in the slightest. Everything else is either want to try or prepared to try, even though I'm not entirely sure I'm going to like it. One or two I'm not even sure about what they are, and so I check unsure, even though I'm tempted to run off and find out. Instead, I decide it might be more fun if they explained it to me, and leave the checks in place.

When I'm done reading through everything and I think I've understood it all, I file everything back together and pack it into my bag. It's nearly dinner time, so I head down to the Hall and slide in beside Harry. He greets me with a smile, and hands over the dish of stew.

"Your favourite."

"Thanks," I say, ladling it onto my plate. The activities of earlier and the long break since lunch mean I'm absolutely starving. Harry watches me amused as I bolt down half a jacket potato before pausing for breath.

"Hungry?"

"Starving," I declare, sighing happily.

"Hard days work?" he asks, quietly. I look at him sideways.

"Yes."

"Funny," he murmurs, so quietly now that I have to shift a little closer to catch his words. "Because I came up to the library at lunch to drag you out of your books, and you weren't there. And Madame Pince seemed pretty certain you hadn't been there at all." I look at him from under my lashes after swallowing a few more mouthfuls of stew. "And you don't look like you've been studying," he adds, a little smile now playing about his lips.

"Do I not?"

"No."

"Alright," I say, smiling at him. I was always going to tell him, except I rather planned to tell him on my terms instead of his. "Alright, so you caught me. Come to the Room with me later and I'll tell you."

"Right after," he promises, and sets about inventing a story to spin to Ron, who finally rushes into the Great Hall. He's late, which for him is pretty damn unusual.

"Where have you been?"

"Damn Filch. Some little shit of a kid let off a bunch of Dungbombs down in the first floor bathrooms and he blamed me. Said I was the Prefect on duty so I should've stopped it. Made me clean it out and I'm not finished so I have to go back after." He reaches for everything within arms length and piles food onto his plate before shovelling it down at express speed.

"Do you know which first year it was?"

"Nope. Fred and George's protégés, who knows? But whoever they were, they better hope I don't find out."

"You know if you eat that fast you're going have god-awful indigestion," I tell him, mopping up the gravy from my stew with buttered bread.

"Gotta get back. If I'm late he'll make me clean all of them." Harry and I finish up dinner, and get up together.

"Well, see you back in the common room, mate," Harry says.

"Don't wait up, it'll probably take hours." I follow Harry out of the Hall, and he takes my hand when we're on the seventh floor, walking me past the tapestry three times and then drags me through the door.

"Harry, what's the rush?" I ask, laughing.

"So," he says, throwing himself onto a sofa and holding his arms out. I flop into them and snuggle down. "Where have you been taking yourself off to?"

"I only went this once," I protest.

"Oh no. Even before Umbridge, you were sneaking about with my Cloak. And I want to know why, today, you came back looking extremely well fucked."

"I do not look well fucked!" I protest, even though I'm fairly sure I probably do. Especially since I have been.

"Yeah, you do," he says, sliding his hand into my hair and tugging gently on the knots that stop his fingers. "Lets start with this hair. I've been responsible for you having sex hair enough times to know what you look like with it." I go scarlet. He laughs, and holds me closer.

"I'll tell you, but you have to swear you'll never tell anyone."

"Of course not."

"I've found a Dominant."

"So, you took the leap," he says, smiling down at me, pressing a light kiss onto my hair. "Who?"

"Bill," I say, peeking at him from under my lashes. "And Charlie." He stills for a brief moment.

"Both?"

"Yes. It makes sense, really. They'll train me."

"And it's definitely what you want?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm glad you're happy, Mione." I let out a breath I hadn't even known was being held, a painful sigh of relief. Harry, I realise, will forever be my go-to guy for all of this, this entire lifestyle, because he was the man who highlighted my interest in it. If it hadn't been for him, if it hadn't been for an encounter in this Room when everything became too much and if it weren't for him losing control, I'd still be lying on my back and thinking that however great the sex was, something was missing. It will always be his approval I seek, and now I have it, I feel complete, and more convinced than ever that the course I am embarking on is the right one. He drops another careless kiss onto my hair, combing his fingers through my ponytail at the same time. I snuggle into his side, resting my head on his chest, reflecting idly that the sofa has become wider. I know exactly what he's thinking.

"I'm not sure I can sleep with you, Harry," I say, my fingers fiddling with the buttons on his shirt anyway.

"I know."

"Then why is the Room making this sofa turn slowly into a bed."

"No idea." I laugh, and run my fingers down to his jeans, and cup the bulge that tells me he has _every_ idea. "Mione."

"Harry," I return, innocently. I wonder if this is alright - while I haven't signed their contract yet, we have agreed that I will, or all but agreed. I'm fairly sure being fucked against a wall constitutes some kind of agreement. He hasn't moved, although I can see him fighting the urge to pin me beneath him, and take from me. Just as I'm thinking I should get up and leave, an owl taps sharply on a newly appeared window. I roll away from Harry and fetch it, recognising the handwriting as Charlie's. I unfurl it, as Harry comes to join me. I let him read over my shoulder, and scan the few lines rapidly.

_Hermione - missed something in the contract, which I'm very well aware you've already read. Until you sign it, you're a free woman, so any opportunities which may come up can be taken - provided, of course, that we hear about them._

I read it two or three times, more or less unable to believe it. How on earth did they know I'd be given an opportunity - because I know they did know, this is too well-timed to be coincidence. Harry, in the meantime, has pushed my hair to one side. His fingers are tracing a path along the line of my throat.

"How's your side?" he murmurs, his breath hot on my ear, making me shudder with anticipation. I haven't even thought about it - mind-blowing sex is apparently a terrific painkiller.

"Fine," I mutter. "Do you think I'd look this well-fucked if it wasn't?"

"True," he mutters, burying his face in my hair. "Well, how about it? One last fuck, before you're their's?" Something in his voice makes me frown, and I twist in his arms, looking at him. Realisation dawns.

"Harry," I say, framing his face in my hands, "this - does this bother you? My being with them?"

"Yes and no," he admits. "No because it's what you want and they can give you what I can't. Yes because - because you were mine, damnit." My eyes widen slightly at his possessive growl.

"Is this a feelings thing?" I demand, trying to draw back, before he cages me in his arms and hangs on tighter.

"No, Hermione. I love you, but not in a way that means you being them would hurt me. You were - you're my girl."

"Oh, Harry. I'll always be your girl, because you have something that nobody else can or will. And you made me see who I really was. Nothing can change that, so I'll always be your girl. Just because we won't be having sex with each other now doesn't change that." His eyes close, and he takes my hands very tenderly, kissing my fingertips.

"Say it again," he asks - not an order, not a command. This is a plea.

"I'll always be your girl," I whisper. He picks me up, carries me back to the sofa, lays me down and devours me, and this time it's different. He is gentle, soft, loving, content to let me dictate our pace. Our last time, this last time we'll undress one another. It could so easily be the same as before, but this time we make it special. His hands on me are almost hesitant, his kisses are soft and gentle, his touches aren't hurried or frenzied. He is gentler today that ever before, and the first orgasm almost comes from nowhere - only when it sweeps over me did I realise that I was building to it, on the edge thanks to his worship. He takes me while I'm still trembling with the force of it, and I wraps arms and legs around him, let him make love to me, let him take his own pleasure, fulfilled and sated already, holding him tightly as he shudders a groan and stills above me. For a few minutes, while heartbeats level out and I stop trembling, I hold him close and he remains inside me. I can feel my heart beating. He slips out, mutters a Cleansing Charm and pulls the blanket that materialises on the floor over us. He holds me until the sky outside the window has darkened and a clock somewhere chimes ten, telling us we need to get back for curfew and Ron. Only then does he move, sighing against me and running a hand into my hair. I can barely summon the energy to move, every limb feels heavy and I feel like I've melted. He mutters another spell, and I find myself clothed. He picks me up in his arms and sets me gently onto my feet. I stumble slightly, fall against him, and he hooks his arms around me and gathers me in for a hug.

"Sleep with me tonight?" he asks, peppering my face with light kisses.

"Yes," I say, knowing that it won't be about sex, that it won't be about making love. Knowing that it'll be the closure on the physical part of us. The thought does not make me sad, rather makes me reflective. There will always be an us, there will always be Harry and I moments in my life as there always will be in his. I will always be his girl, I will always be his in ways that I will never be anyone else's.

I'll never know if his dorm-mates understand that something has changed, that something is different. I'll never know if they sense it or if they just choose to be sensitive for once. They make no comment on Harry appearing with me in tow, and nothing is said when we get into his bed and close the curtains. He falls asleep almost as soon as his head touches the pillow, and I feel myself following him. Before I fall asleep, I reach up, touch his lips with mine very gently.

We wake up like that, nose to nose almost, his arm slung over my waist, and out legs tangled under the sheets. I glance at my watch, see I have a good two hours before I need to be in Hogsmeade and reach up to touch Harry's face. His eyes open at once and he smiles.

"Oh thank God," he mumbles.

"What?"

"I thought you'd sneak away in the night."

"Never," I murmur, pressing a little closer to him. "But we have to get up."

"No, we don't."

"We do," I insist. "It's breakfast time and I have to be in Hogsmeade."

"Breaking rules? You bad girl." He clasps me to him for a moment, and then releases me with a kiss on my forehead. He rolls out of bed and as he does so, the Charm on the curtains drops, and the boys start in.

"Finally surfaced, Potter?" Dean asks, his voice thick with humour. God, I've always loved that voice. "Thought you'd never drag yourself away from Hermione."

"Hermione is awake and can hear you, you know," I call, pulling on the clothes I find at the end of his bed, discarding my shirt. "Harry, lend me one of your shirts." A red t-shirt sails through the curtains and I shrug into it. I roll out of his bed and wander past the boys, all of whom are in varying states of undress. I sneak a peek at Dean, and thoroughly appreciate the view before kissing Ron on the cheek to wish him good morning.

"If you're giving out kisses, it's only fair you give the rest of us one too," Seamus says, winking. I roll my eyes at him, and slip out, telling Harry and Ron that I'll meet them downstairs, before returning to my own dormitory for a shower and a change. Thanking God that none of the girls are early risers, I get in and out of the shower before any of them even stir, and am dressing quickly before any of them rouse. I make it down to breakfast safely, although I know that it's only putting off the inevitable interrogation. Harry is already in his seat, and I slide in next to him, deciding for once to have a hot breakfast. Once he realises what I want, he helps serve me bacon, sausages, scrambled eggs, baked beans, and presses toast on me. I pour us both juice, and we're tucking in happily before the others stumble in, dropping into seats around us. Ron, of course, digs in with enthusiasm, and I see the others clearly burning to say something.

"Boys, I did not have sex with Harry whilst spending the night in his bed," I say, mopping up the sauce from the beans with my toast. Neville chokes on his pumpkin juice, Seamus laughs and bangs him vigorously on the back while Dean smiles. Harry just grins and squeezes my thigh. Ron remains oblivious, and Dean levels a look at us.

"Good to know, Hermione."

"Well, all of the staring was getting annoying. I thought I'd just clear up the unspoken question."

"You have to admit, it was an odd thing for you to do."

"Not at all," I say, swinging my legs out from under the table and standing up. "Anyway, I have places to be. See you all." I open my bag when I'm opposite the one-eyed witch, check I have the files, and spot Harry's cloak. He must have sneaked it in yesterday. I take it out and swing it over my shoulders, checking that there's nobody around. I open the passage and slip down it, consulting my watch. Crap, how am I running late? I must have been at breakfast longer than I thought. Still, I should be alright if I hurry, and sure enough, although I'm panting and flushed, I hurry into the room over the Hogs Head with about a minute to spare. Charlie looks up, and I notice that he's alone.

"Just made it, Hermione," he says, smiling as he comes towards me. He kisses me softly, and I return it eagerly. God, I had two mind-blowing orgasms just yesterday, and already I'm craving him. He chuckles, easing me back. "Now, now, my greedy girl. That isn't what today's about." I glance around, half-expecting Bill to be lounging in a corner. "Bill can't make it - they called him back to Egypt, something about a chamber in a pyramid that was firing off random curses at the Muggle archaeologists who discovered it. I'm not sure, I was only half listening. You can opt to wait to sign and so on until he's here too, or you and I can do it together, he doesn't mind which, as long as I mail him a copy of your checklist and so on."

"You came all the way out here, and I borrowed Harry's cloak, so I think doing it now would be acceptable, Sir, if you have no objections." He nods, but doesn't respond to it, simply pulling me down into the armchair, inviting me to bundle in with him.

"Let's discuss the checklist first. Any burning questions?"

"One or two," I say, pulling it out of my bag.

"Only two Unwilling. Why?"

"Blood makes me vomit and frankly, I don't find bodily fluids attractive."

"Fair enough. You list caning as Unsure?"

"Well - it's not an absolute hard limit, Sir. I mean, not like blood and things, I know I wouldn't like that, but I'm not sure I'd enjoy it."

"Can you explain why you didn't then tick Prepared to Try?"

"I'm not sure I would be prepared to try it, Sir. You see, when my parents were young, in Muggle schools, they used to cane children as punishment. And my father had a scar - a very deep, pronounced one - across the palm of his hand following one such punishment. And I - I guess I already have enough scars."

"So you're not worried about the act but rather the consequences? Hermione, you can trust us - neither Bill nor I go in for anything so sadistic that would result in any scarring." I fidget. "You can speak absolutely freely in this conversation, I must have you be honest with me."

"Well, this isn't that I don't trust you and Bill - I do, or I wouldn't be here now," I state, and he smiles. "I'm just - the idea scares me a little."

"I see," he says, softly. "Hermione, you can trust us absolutely. If you decide you are willing to try it, then we will, but we will respect every choice you make and if you were to try and it and not enjoy it, we would stop at once."

"OK," I decide, finding a quill and crossing out the Unsure, and ticking Prepared. He kisses me again.

"Your trust in us means a great deal, Hermione." I smile at him.

"I did have a question about this," I say, pointing to "temperature play".

"What is the question?"

"Well, what does it involve? What sort of things?"

"Again, not the things that would leave any scarring. Candle wax and ice."

"Candle wax?"

"Not appealing?"

"Not immediately. But I really only ticked Unsure because I wanted to specify what was involved, so I would be prepared to try it." I change that tick too. He takes the list from my hand and scans through it, one hand firmly placed on my stomach to keep me close to him. One makes him let out a low whistle, and I crane, wondering which one would make him do so. The wicked look in his eyes when he turns to me makes me squirm in anticipation.

"Oh, Hermione, you naughty, wicked girl. You want to try _humiliation?"_

"I - er -"

"Come on, Hermione, don't go all shy on me now."

"I like being watched," I mumble.

"Didn't quite catch that."

"I like being watched," I say, louder, determinedly meeting his eyes this time. He laughs, and I smile, reassured by the sound.

"Well, Hermione," he says, putting the checklist on the table. "Do you have any questions at all, about anything in either the checklist or contract, or just in general?"

"I have some, Sir," I say, immediately, and he smiles. "First, when you said you and Bill aren't sadistic - does that mean some Dominants are?" He regards me thoughtfully.

"Yes," he says, and I notice he isn't smiling now. "Dominants, like Submissives, vary massively. Bill and I are bondage and domination practitioners. However, some Dominants - and I'm saying nothing against them, mind, and nor should you - also enjoy sadism, and their Submissives enjoy masochism. The Dominant enjoys inflicting pain, sometimes to the point of scarring, and the Submissive will enjoy receiving pain. While I believe that a certain level of pain is both erotic and exceedingly pleasurable, I don't agree with scarring anyone permanently, not do I believe in beating my girls until they are no longer having any fun."

"What if I should meet a Dominant who would want to do some of those things to me, even if I didn't want them?"

"Then he wouldn't be right for you. No Dom/Sub relationship of any kind should be based on compromises. If, after your training with us is over, you should meet a Dominant who tried to pressure you into anything you are uncomfortable with, I would advise you not to enter into any sort of contract with him. In a good, healthy Dom/Sub relationship, making sure a Submissive is comfortable and happy ought to be the priority. Just because I want to tie you down and spank you doesn't mean I don't put your needs first. If you say no, it doesn't happen. And should you ever come across someone who thinks otherwise and who tries to pressure you, I'd like to feel like you could come to us for support." I nod slowly, taking it all in. I'd had no idea that there were so many unspoken rules.

"So, if I were to say stop, you'd stop?"

"Yes. We'd then discuss in a neutral area and in a neutral manner why you wanted us to stop. Anything that makes you uncomfortable, at any point, you say the safe word and everything stops. We could be balls deep in your gorgeous pussy, and we'd stop." The bare idea of him or Bill being balls deep inside makes me shudder with anticipation.

"Safe words?"

"Yes, every single Dominant you go to must agree on safe words with you. If they don't, that should be a major, major warning sign. They should never forget - safe words are absolutely vital to a relationship."

"What would ours be?"

"Bill and I use easy ones, red, amber and green. Red means you want to stop everything, at once, for whatever reason. Amber means you want to slow things down a bit, or take a short break with something more relaxing. Green is a response to us asking if you're OK, and obviously if you are OK, you'd say it. During training we'd expect you to use these words a lot. Never be afraid to use them, however, either during training or afterwards." I nod, but don't say anything. I think I've asked everything I can think of. "Do you have any other questions?"

"Not right now, Sir."

"Well, should any ever arise, you may ask them freely, as long as you are respectful. Now, we must discuss your contract." He runs through it with me, and I have no objections to it and no real questions, as it's all fairly straight-forward. He hesitates, however, before he hands over the quill so I can sign it. "Hermione, in signing this contract, you accept and acknowledge that until it ends, you do belong to us. You accept that any transgression will be punished, you accept that you must remain faithful to us, and you accept that we expect a certain amount from you and that you accept the timetable of training and will not vary from it unless a very good reason arises."

"I understand, Sir, and I respect that, accept it and understand it. I have only one question. This bit," I say, riffling through the pages until I find it, pointing it out to him. "It says that I should use appropriate titles both in and out of the playroom. But in public - in front of people - your family, my parents if you should meet them, Harry and Ron -"

"Hermione, where appropriate, you should refer to us by title. However, we do not expect you to do it in front of people who don't know about the lifestyle, in the same way that we won't refer to you by any - pet names. However, at all times, regardless of where we are and who we are with, you must at all times show the proper respect, being polite and courteous. Any rudeness or lack of respect will be duly discussed and punished."

"Understood, Sir," I say, and with a smile, he hands me the quill. Answering his smile, I take it from him and sign. He takes the quill back, and signs also. He places the quill onto the parchment, the parchments onto the table, and relaxes back into the armchair, bringing me to rest on his chest.

"You don't have anywhere to be today, do you?"

"No. My work is done, and it's a Sunday. I haven't any Prefect duties to do."

"Good, then get up. We're going out."

He takes me by Side-Along Apparation to Muggle London, and he holds my hand as we walk around it slowly, talking to me about Romania and his dragons, and I talk to him about Hogwarts and my parents, and Muggle life. And at sunset, he takes me back to Hogsmeade and he kisses me goodbye when he sees me into the Shack, leaving me with a copy of the contract and the checklist, and tells me, in a voice thick with promise, that he'll see me two days after I get back home.

I already can't wait.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Chapter contains one very brief mention of incest. Also language which some may find objectionable.

BPOV

Charlie sends me the copies of her contract and checklist a day after he met with her and I take some time in my tent to read through them after my work-day is officially over. He's written down the questions she asked him and the answers he gave her, and I'm pleased to note her inquisitiveness. It tells me she's serious about all this and not just following an errant whim - she's obviously thought about everything in detail. Her worries about caning jump out at me, and I know that while she's prepared to try it with us, we'll have to tread very carefully with her. I think it'd be best for just one of us to be involved at a time when we try that and it'll have to be very carefully done. Charlie's explained safe-words to her, I note, and that's something - she has to have the means to stop us. Although, safewords aside, if the word stop passes her lips, with or without safe words or titles, we will stop. I note all of this in a letter to Charlie, although I miss out the safewords remarks, knowing he already knows that.

The next two weeks pass slowly, as we wait for her to finish up school for the summer. Then Ron's home, Harry's back at the Dursley's and she's left for a weekend in Dorset with her parents. Just before she gets back, an owl arrives for me and Charlie, and we recognise her handwriting, making the choice to open it privately, away from mum and the family. As it turns out, it's a damn good thing we did. She's sent us a picture, with _Looking forward to seeing you _written across the back of it. It's a Muggle photograph, so it's stationary. She's kneeling up on a bed, hands bound in front of her, a smile on her face, eyelids heavy with lust, and she's clad only in bra and panties. We stare at in silence.

"Well, _fuck," _Charlie hisses, transfixed. The cheeky little minx. She knows full damn well the effect she has, and I admire her confidence. I've never seen anything sexier. We can also see in the photograph that her side is entirely healed, which I'm sure was her original intention. I wonder when it stopped being about showing us she's all better and became a let's tease them and find out exactly how far I can push them both thing. She looks half-amused, half-aroused, and my imagination wanders into very interesting territory, imagining her pleasing herself. "Merlin, when are we seeing her?"

"Not until Wednesday."

"Fuck," he growls, before tweaking the photograph from my hands and disappearing. I ward my door behind him and relax into my desk chair, stretching my legs out before me and tipping my head back. My eyes slide closed and I call up the memory of her on her knees in front of me, hot little mouth on my cock, those cinnamon eyes staring up into mine. The way her throat felt - Merlin. I can't resist. I wrap my hand over my cock and pump slowly, remembering the feel of her little hands on the base as her tongue pressed on the vein behind my foreskin. And that's all it takes. The memory is so vivid and real, it's all it takes to make me come. I almost wish masturbating to the memory of my little brother's friend sucking my cock felt less right. I better get a copy of that photograph.

She's on time on Wednesday, wearing a pretty, light summer dress, a salute to temperatures soaring into the high twenties. Charlie's already inside the storage unit we rent for this, making sure everything's ready. As soon as she comes into arms reach, I seize her, pulling her close, and burying my face into all that fragrant hair, pulled up into a ponytail. I trail my fingers down her arms, and she shivers in delight, and I kiss her smile.

"You bad girl," I murmur, kissing her neck. She leans back a little so I meet her eyes. She deliberately makes them wide and innocent, and it sends a jolt through me.

"You didn't like my surprise?"

"Oh no. It was greatly appreciated." She laughs, delight colouring it. Her laugh shimmers like the heat haze I can see on the pavements. Suddenly, I remember the practicalities. "How did you get here?"

"I got the bus."

"Good. Are you ready?" I frame her face in my hands and she smiles. She turns her face, kisses my palm and looks at me.

"And willing," she whispers. I smile, take her hand and lead her inside. She almost trembles with anticipation when I stop before the door. I knock twice, and Charlie immediately joins us outside. He kisses her too, he more demanding and insistent than I. When he releases her, she looks a little dazed but smiles at him.

"OK, we decided that it'd be best for you to go in and take a little time - as much as you want - to wander around and look at everything. We'll come in with you, and if you have any questions, you can ask." Charlie smiles at her, and takes her hand, pulling her through the door. When she stops just inside it, he smiles and lets go, walking over to a chair and slouching into it. I step up behind her after shutting the door and warding it, and put my hands on her shoulders. I kiss her neck, wait for her to react. She's absorbing what she sees, I can tell it by the expression on her face. Her eyes are roving around the room, lighting on certain things but never for very long. She moves at last, walks slowly, and I sit on a chair beside Charlie. She doesn't do much, just circles the room slowly. She trails her fingers along the bench, and I picture how she'll look bent over it, her butt reddened from a paddling. Charlie shifts, and I know he had the same idea. She turns back to us very soon, and I can see the lust in her eyes. She's breathing a little shakily, and I pull her down to sit at my feet, pushing at her head until she rests it in my lap. I tangle my fingers in that ponytail and pull it gently.

"So, beautiful, have you any questions?" She nods, and looks at Charlie as she answers.

"When can we start?" His laugh is delighted, and he slides off his chair, pulls her to him, and crushes his lips against hers.

"Patience," I growl, yanking her back against me. He smiles, and contents himself with tracing her legs with his fingers - those deliciously bare legs. "We'll start slow," I tell her. "We won't get into anything really hardcore today. You have to learn your playroom etiquette." She nods. "First, from today, whenever you enter the playroom, you'll kneel at once. Unless specifically told to walk, you'll crawl. You'll address us appropriately. Upon being told to do something, you will not question it, but do it at once. However, any time you wish to stop or pause, use the safewords - you know them?"

"Yes, Sir - Charlie explained them to me."

"Call him Sir," I say, gently. "In the future, such transgressions will be punished."

"Sorry, Sir," she murmurs. I nod, stroking her hair. She leans into my hand with a sigh - half triggered by my action, half by Charlie's hands, which are now stroking under her skirt.

"Very well. We're going to do some sensory deprivation with you today, alright?"

"Do you mean blindfolding, Sir?"

"Yes, and we'll tie your hands too. And from there, we'll let it happen as it happens. Do you have any questions?"

"No Sir."

"Very well. From now on, you will not speak unless to answer a question or use your safewords." She nods, and I smile.

"Now can I kiss her?" Charlie asks, and I smile. I release my grip on her ponytail, and he takes her back into his arms. I go over to the bed and pick up the blindfold I assume he left there earlier. By the time I get back to them, he's unbuttoned her dress halfway, pushed it off her shoulders so it's caught at her waist. Her bra is a soft pink, lace and silken bows. His hands are on her waist and hers are on his shoulders. They're standing, she's moulded to his front. Either he hears me coming or sees me, but either way he breaks their kiss. I slip the blindfold over her eyes and make sure she's alright. As soon as I have her confirmation, I kiss her, ad she accepts me eagerly. Charlie's hands remove her bra from her, then he takes her hands, and binds them behind her back. Still she doesn't break our kiss, and when my hands find their way to her breasts, she responds instantly. Her back arches and her' head tips back and she gasps. I break away from her, and she stands alone now, her head moving as she tries to guess where we are. Charlie is behind her, sitting on the edge of the bed and smirking, a bulge in his jeans.

"Hermione, turn around, pet." She turns on the spot, her dress still caught on her hips. She ends up facing Charlie, who pulls his shirt over his head. She obviously hears the rustle, because she responds to it and looks towards the noise. I go over to her, and pull at the back of the dress until the rest of the buttons come undone. One or two ping off, but it's easily fixed later. She stands still, in knickers that match the now-discarded bra and her feet bare. "Walk forward." She hesitates. Walking blind takes a lot of trust, and her hands are tied too. "Straight forward, Charlie's right in front of you," I say, and this time she moves. She's cautious in her movements, and goes slowly, but she listens and obeys. I nod, even though she can't see me. "Good girl." She makes it all the way without tripping, and I know that after some practice, it'll be easier. Charlie reaches for her, and she visibly relaxes the moment she's in his hands. He caresses her hips and legs, and she tips back her head, sighing with the pleasure of it. I watch his hands explore her leisurely, her flesh give ever so slightly under his touch, and I see her hands clench and unclench as she experiences it blind. I see how he always just misses her knickers, getting closer with every pass over hips, legs, stomach. As a result, when his fingers finally do reach the slick of silk, she gasps, jumps visibly. As her head tips backwards, the tail of shining honey-coloured curls brushes the hand he's stroking up and down her spine with. He immediately seizes the chance, and wraps it round his hand. He uses it to pull her to her knees, before leaning forward and capturing her lips with his. I go over to them now, crouch behind her, tell her to part her knees. She does it at once, at the first nudge. As soon as I touch her, she bucks eagerly into my hand, pressing forward. A little damp patch develops under my hand and I feel a thrill rush through me, feeling her desire for us. Charlie's hands are at her breasts, her nipples hard, peeking like cherries between his fingers. She gasps, moans, delicious noises spilling from her lips. I move my hand, and her noise of protest becomes a mewl of delight as I slide my hand under the material and find her hot and wet, ready and needy. She rubs herself against my hand as soon as my hand stills.

"No, Hermione," I warn. "Don't move, darling, not unless I say you can." She nods, remembering that she wasn't to speak. I continue to tease her, continue gliding over her clit and I feel her grow better and feel her head drop back onto my shoulder. I turn my head, find her neck, bite hard on her pulse. Her head falls back completely, and her chest goes out, pushing towards Charlie's hands. I can feel her approaching some precipice, her hips are moving involuntarily now, and the noises spilling from her lips are increasing in volume and desperation. I meet Charlie's eyes and we mutually agree, silently, that today is not the day to teach her about withholding her orgasms upon being told to. That can come later. But I can and do refuse to allow her to fall over the peak, withdrawing my hands. She presses forward, mewling when she meets nothing, but before she can fret too much, Charlie pulls her to her feet. He presses her backwards until she's lying on the bed, and then he crawls up after her. His kiss on her lips is hard, passionate, and he all but rips her knickers off her. She gives a little cry, and he immediately kisses the red marks that are left behind by his action. For a few seconds, he just sits back, admiring the view, by the looks of things. I palm myself through my own jeans, watch hungrily. Just for now, I'm content to watch him have his fill of her. He returns to her lips, kissing her, trailing down her neck, taking her breasts with hands and mouth before moving down. Her intake of breath when he kisses the seam between thighs and hips is rough, ragged and harsh. But the cry that spills from her throat when his lips find her heat is almost enough to make me come right then. She bucks into him, presses down, and his hands go to her hips, still them. He doesn't stay with her for very long, he brings her to that edge again, I can tell it by her noises, and she all but screams when he pulls away from her. He comes to me, leaving Hermione to writhe on the bed, rubbing her legs together to try and get some friction.

"Taste her," he commands. I can see it on his lips, and so I bend my head, kiss him once, briefly. Our kisses are few and far between, and when they happen they are eager and delicious. "Tell me how she tastes."

"Like honey." Hermione has stopped wriggling, and is listening intently. I bet she heard us kiss. "Like sugar and honey."

"Hermione, tell us what you want," he urges her, going back to her. Her knees fall apart at once, and he chuckles. "So eager. So greedy and so eager, my good little girl."

"Like you," I say. "She's like you." He laughs again at that, but doesn't touch her.

"Tell us what you want, Hermione."

"I - I want to come!" She half gasps, half-sobs the words, and the reaction is instant. I growl in possessiveness as Charlie reaches for her, pushing him aside and kneeling between her legs. She's so wet she glistens with it and when I dip my head to taste, it's even better tasting it first hand than tasting her on his lips. I feast, tasting what she has to give me, kissing, licking, sucking, and in a very short time, in just minutes, her back arches impossibly, she cries out and I slide a finger into the hot, wet channel, and feel her clutch impossibly tight. She comes on a press of hips and a scream of pleasure and I don't stop until she's finished clutching and has fallen limp onto the bed. Only then do I sit back, harder than I've ever been before, desperate for her, needing her, wanting, craving. But it's only fair that Charlie gets a chance. He's already out, and his hand is wrapped around his cock. Hermione is still gasping, but her breathing is returning to normal. Her skin is covered in sweat, a light sheen of it. I move backwards, and tell Hermione to kneel up. She does, and I untie her hands. Her reaction is to bring them to her front, roll her shoulders once or twice.

"Are you alright?" I ask her.

"Yes, sir," she murmurs, smiling at nothing. She still can't see, and I debate removing the blindfold, but decide it's more fun all round to leave it on.

"Charlie, what do you want? Do you want to fuck her pussy, or have her open her mouth and suck your cock?"

"I've had her cunt. Your turn for that, brother. I'd like to find out exactly how talented that very pretty mouth is." I push Hermione accordingly, bending her forwards, have her take her weight on her arms so she's on all fours. She needs no telling to have her head tipped back for access. She knows, knows how we want her. Charlie makes himself comfortable, tangles his hand into her ponytail, urges her forward. I remove my own clothing, wanting nothing in the way of this, wanting her to feel skin against her own. As she takes him into her mouth, I slide myself inside her, muttering a charm first. She's so hot, so wet, so tight. She cries out, pleasure muffled by him. It's a heady blur, hearing those muffled noises and feeling her clutch randomly around me, feeling wet heat and a pulse from deep inside her. I slide my hand around her hips, knowing Charlie's close. I can feel fire burning deep inside me somewhere and I know it's building within me, even as I see it on his face. His hands are tightening in her hair, pulling the roots very gently. She doesn't seem to mind very much. I find her clit, bend down until I'm leaning on her, kiss her back between her shoulders, and whisper in her ear.

"Come, Hermione." It's instantaneous. She cries out, tearing her mouth from his cock, crying out. I feel her clutch around me, so tightly it nearly forces me from her, and I lose control. He hasn't come though, and he brings her head back to him, pumps his cock once, twice, and she seals her lips over him long enough to catch and swallow what he gives her. All that is left after that is for the three of us to collapse in a sated heap, Hermione cased in my arms. Charlie removes her blindfold with shaking fingers, kisses her eyes, nose, mouth. I kiss her neck, kiss the bruise from my bite earlier, wrap an arm around her waist and mould her to me, while Charlie pulls a blanket over all of us. He manages to get us into a position where he can rub her shoulders and neck, until she's entirely limp against me. Limp and half-asleep, eyelashes fluttering. Her breathing is soft, even, gentle, the way she'd breath if she were asleep. "Are you alright?" I murmur to her, smoothing her hair down.

"Fine, Sir. Better than. Fantastic." I smile, press a kiss onto her hair.

"What did you enjoy, or not enjoy so much?" She considers, I can almost hear the wheels turning.

"I didn't not enjoy anything. I liked not being able to see, Sir. It meant I could hear more, and I felt more - I felt closer to you, because I couldn't see either of you. I can tell the difference between you now."

"How?"

"Charlie's - I mean, Sir's - hands are rougher. He has more calluses. And you have different styles. You're more gentle." Charlie laughs at that, and opens his arms. I let her go for a brief moment, and as soon as she's tucked herself against his side, I move to cover her back again. She rests one hand on his chest, and one leg tucks over his thigh.

"Have you any questions?"

"Um."

"You may speak freely during these moments, Hermione. Always speak freely in aftercare."

"This is aftercare?"

"Yes, it's where we make sure you're alright, enjoyed yourself, and if you have any questions."

"Did you kiss each other, Sir?"

"We did. Did you like it?" She purses her lips.

"I'd like it better if I saw it." We both laugh at that, and he answers her.

"Well, if you're a very good little girl and behave, you might get to." She smiles contentedly and curls a little closer into his side.

"Anything else?"

"No, Sir." I kiss her shoulder, and for a while, we stay like that. Eventually, however, we have to stir and get up. I help her dress, repairing the buttons that popped off with a wave of my wand and button her into it. I kiss her goodbye at the door, and Charlie takes her hand to walk her to the bus stop. When they're out of sight, I collapse onto the bed.

She is going to be phenomenal.


End file.
